Iced Fire
by scriptS.of.eSsence
Summary: This is an original story; my first! i'm a rookie! be kind! i didn't know where else to put it. hope you enjoy : //// Love stinks :\
1. Chapter 1

_***please don't steal. I own all this. aspiring novelist here.  
***so this is completely fictional and very biased and im just in the mood to write in this manner at the moment so lets just go with it ;) hope you enjoy.._

1. First comes love, then comes... Yeah, right.  
Here's the real deal.

Warning: the following is not for the faint heart.

If you've ever been told that girls are complicated, you're in for one hell of a surprise. Guys aren't all that simple either. In fact, when it comes right down to it, us girls, we're just needy at times. And we have expectations. We watch one too many Disney movies. We dream. But so what? We're all looking for the same thing in the end; and that's love. Guys, on the other hand, are manipulative; tricky; deceitful; misleading; and mostly, wrecks. The minute those sly dogs see you, they're hooked. They seek your attention, and when you finally give them the time of day, they sweep you off your feet with their charm and wit and sarcasm and charisma. They get you to pity them, to _feel._ And once you start falling, you're basically screwed, because what goes down – sometimes – just isn't coming back up. Can't you tell that in almost every relationship, the girl is always the one to patch things up? Exactly my point being. We try. We compromise. We sacrifice. We. We. We. I'm sick of it.

It's an interesting concept, I'll have to admit. And it actually really depends on the person. Normally, I would be all "Fall for him, he's the one, it's true love, it's okay to get hurt, that's life, etc. etc." But enough is enough; and unfortunately, this is the inner bitch talking. I would be lying to all of you if I said I wasn't hurt enough in my lifetime. So here's my little bit of advice to all you single ladies out there: fly solo for as long as you can. Don't ever fall for a guy and let him play you, because in the end, you're gonna be fucked. And you're asking, "I know this, how...?" Well, that's what the rest of the story is for, of course. Experience, my fledglings. It's all about experience.


	2. Chapter 2

2. The Cold Shoulder.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Shit. Carter Graham spun the bottle and the bottle stopped at me. Great. One order of kissing-with-an-excess-of-saliva coming right up. Sure, Graham was a hell of a cutie, but getting a kiss from him meant getting your face washed. And not the nice way. If there's one thing you could ever need to know about kissing, its that an excess of saliva is like a no-go territory, no matter how attractive the guy.

So there I am, groaning mentally and silently cursing the bottle gods. I'm just dying inside, praying and hoping for it to be quick and over, bracing myself for the onslaught of wetness, and... nothing. Something's not right. Thank the Lord I only got as far as closing my eyes. God, I can only imagine how embarrassing it would've been had I puckered my lips or something. Ugh... I'm shuddering just thinking about it. Anyways, back to my almost-was kiss. Not that I was looking forward to it, or anything...

I'll cut to the chase. Basically, here's how it went down:  
"God loves you, Rae," laughed Carter. Everyone starts to groan in protest.  
"What?..." I ask, confused.  
"I'm not gonna kiss you, Lorraine," he states, matter-of-factly. They all take turns grumbling at Carter.  
"What the fuck, man?"  
"Just do it already!"  
"It's just a friggin game, Graham..."  
"Don't be such a wussy, Gray"  
"You're holding up the game!"  
"It doesn't even mean anything; oh my God..."  
"Geez, you're such a fucken prude, Carter..."  
"Guys, guys, relax. I'm just not gonna kiss her. Man, I'm out," mumbles Carter. He gets up slowly, backing into the couch for support. What, was he disabled or something that night? Then I begin to feel that uncomfortable prickliness in my calves, and understand. Pins and needles. Ah, it's really sore. Guess that's what sitting cross-legged for an hour does to you.

I'll never forget that night. August 31st, 2006. We were all barely legal, sophomores at North Acadia University. My roommate Shauna and her sister decided to have a house party, and I had decided to go. I know you're all probably thinking "oh my God, must've been all booze and make outs and dirty dancing and smoking 'til the fire department rolled around" but really; house parties thrown by Shauna are at most MA16+. Nobody had ever gotten completely smashed to a point where they had done something regrettable, and no illegal substances of any sort were ever permitted. I shit you not (not that I'm complaining), Shauna hired a private security crew every time a party at her house took place. Privilege of a rich, Asian kid, I guess. In any case, Shauna Lang always hosted the most kick-ass parties, on and off campus. Anyways. We weren't drunk or anything. We all know our limits, and we are sensible, young adults. And for some reason, I'm finding this very hard to say with a straight face. But really, we were alright. A couple shots of this or that, a beer or two; it's nothing. We're good. It's all good.

So, to everyone's surprise, Carter actually gets up, out of the family room, and settles to watch T.V. in the living room. Sure, a game is just a game, but my esteem is still my esteem, too. What, he couldn't spare five seconds of his time to lay a quick one on me? Not even a swift peck? I'll admit I'm not one of the prettiest people around, but I'm not all that repulsive either.

***  
Forgive me, ladies. It seems I have forgotten to introduce myself. How rude of me. Well, I'm Lorraine Teresa Kramer. I was born on April 20th, 1987 (it's 2009; do the math) in London, Ontario. My mother is ½ Chinese, ½ Philippino, and my father is Danish. I have two younger sisters who idolize me and whom I adore, and an older brother who is a complete ass. Nevertheless, they're all family and I love them. Somewhat... My 'Mexican, coffee-brown" hair (as my beloved father calls it) falls to my waist, and I'm 5' 2''. That's basically it. Oh, I also like to run. Love the stuff. And the fresh air is always good for you. I'm not an intense exercise person, but I try to maintain a healthy weight. Also, miraculously, through my incredibly good fortune and determination to look 'nice', I refrained from putting on the infamous "freshman fifteen". From what I've told you and from what I've been told, (I say this without trying to sound conceited) I'm basically a cutie.  
***

Now, what it is that caused Carter Graham to walk away from me that night, I do not know. However, I _do_ know that I left that party feeling a little sadder inside. You know, I'm usually a pretty happy person. I mind my own business, and I'm really friendly. What I haven't told you is that earlier that day, a couple boys on campus had openly flirted with me (and one even asked me for my number!). I'm not going to sit here and lie to you and say that that wasn't a boost for my confidence. 'Cause it was. And I know this because I felt great, elated, and light after the encounter. What I find really shitty about this world of dating, lust, and love, is that every time someone says something to you, and you feel divine, someone else will come along and say or do something else, and you end up feeling like shit. There will always be that someone to tear us down. Whoever said only girls can be cold bitches, sure as hell is wrong. Guys can be downright assholes. August 31st, 2006 is my living proof of it. Offender #1 - Carter Graham. Lest we forget thou who inflict a wound upon thy heart, my munchkins. Lest we forget.


End file.
